


The Song of Fading Summer

by VioletLopez



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, This Is Some Weird Shit, also jojo and darcy are twins now apparently, also yes the title is in fact a sa reference, but ok lets go, even though that was never a hc of mine, i might have been high, idk anymore man, im pretty uncreative, is that like a trigger warning thing or, its kinda confusing, like really i just found this on my computer, they smoke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletLopez/pseuds/VioletLopez
Summary: "Darcy and Joseph Reid were born in late summer, as hot winds began cooling and Central Park faded to yellow."Time is passing without their consent, and their chance to live is slipping away.





	The Song of Fading Summer

**Author's Note:**

> why am i so active recently

Darcy and Joseph Reid were born in late summer, as hot winds began cooling and Central Park faded to yellow. They were identical to the last freckle, with perfect pale skin and wide, curious eyes and tiny pink lips parted as they saw the world for the first time.

It was late summer in the year of 1884, and they were at peace.

~

They were five years old now, with the same pale skin and the same dark gaze and the same tousled hair. They spent the days playing together in their room, or with William Hearst Junior when his father came to visit theirs. Their arguments were the sort of legend - it was baffling, how such young lungs could scream so loud. Often they had to be pried apart from each other, tiny fists flailing as little William sat quietly in the corner, watching it unfold with a sort of solemnity not often found in children.

It was the grand old year of 1889, and they were at odds.

~

The clock struck three in the afternoon just as the timer dropped on their sister’s life. She lay still in her bed, and they stood beside it, surrounding by weeping women and broken men. Joseph had his arms wrapped around himself, staring in shock at Charlotte’s still face. Darcy was sobbing with abandon, far enough gone into grief to reach out and blindly grab the hand of the brother he’d always fought against. Joseph was startled for half a second before pulling his twin close and clinging to him, hiding tears in hair just like his own.

It was three in the afternoon, in the winter of 1890, and they refused to let go.

~

They sat in Darcy’s room, watching the summer sun cast light onto the floorboards. Cigarette smoke drifted through the open window as Darcy leaned forward onto the sill and rested his head on the glass. Joseph stood without a word and crossed the room, placing a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. Together they stared down at the streets of Manhattan, at people bustling home from work, at newsies shouting on the street corners, at the feeling of life that had drained from them as of late, while Darcy recovered from the infection that had killed his sister.

Cigarette smoke obscured the air in the summer of 1896, and they prayed.

~

Had their prayers been answered? Neither could be sure.

Joseph had been too desperate for the rush of life to remain playing such a poor imitation. He wasn’t there when their youngest brother, Brian, had caught the very infection that had haunted them for years.

He wasn’t there when their parents promised Darcy to Katherine Pulitzer.

He wasn’t there when Katherine confided that she wasn’t, in fact, the sort to fall in love with a man - with any man.

He wasn’t there when Darcy realized he, in fact, was.

He wasn’t there when Bill leaned over and kissed Darcy for the first time.

He wasn’t there when Bill caught the infection that had followed their family at every step.

Joseph Reid was out on the streets. He was living as a newsie, dirty and loud and with a permanent smirk, and he loved the constant thrill of it. When you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. Joseph was living by the name only one person had ever been allowed to use - and if he avoided a certain street, who cared? Who noticed if he would wander down it after his papers were gone, and stare at the windows searching for cigarette smoke? What did it matter that he ducked away from every head of dark hair he saw in the crowd, because the guilt threatened to drown him from within?

It was late summer in the year of 1889, and all they remembered of each other was the bitter taste of loneliness.

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck did i write there


End file.
